


A Tale of the Dragonborn

by Maewn



Series: Dragonhearted [7]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Children, Gen, Storytime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9222710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: A story of the Dovahkiin. The legend of the Last Dragonborn facing the World-Eater, Alduin. Or Erissa's favorite bedtime story.





	

“A story, Ata, a story!” Erissa cries, bouncing on her bed before diving under the covers and rolling herself up like a butterfly in its cocoon.

“A story? What kind of story, _yi hla julikal_?” her Ata asks, smiling as he settles at the end of her bed.

“A Dragonborn story!” Erissa chirps from her fluffy cocoon.

“Again?” her Ata asks. “You heard it just two days ago.”

“Yes! It’s the best one!” Erissa says, grinning. 

“Alright,” her Ata says. “One story and then bedtime.”

“Yay!” Erissa cheers and settles against her pillows, waiting.

“Once,” Ata begins, “long, long ago, when the god Auri-el was but a child, a prophecy was spoken.

_When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_

_When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped_

_When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles_

_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn._

These words were spoken and kept. In time, the events foretold did indeed come to pass and the Wheel of Fate turned, as the Last Dragonborn arose to face the World-Eater, Alduin, in battle.

Alduin returned to Nirn in a flash of flame and with a scream of vengeance that shook the ground and all who heard the sound trembled with fear. All save one, the Dragonborn.

‘Fight me if you dare! I am Alduin, bringer of fire and death, firstborn of Akatosh! I am the World-Eater!’ called the creature, its eyes glowing, black hide gleaming in the bright sunlight. ‘Challenge me, Dragonborn! Your efforts will be in vain and I shall enjoy crunching your bones as the world burns to ashes beneath me!’

So saying, the World-Eater left the smoldering ruins of Helgen behind him, and the Dragonborn followed, chasing Alduin over hill and dale until at last they clashed again in the far north as the creature raised one of its many servants from their eternal sleep. But the Dragonborn was not afraid, and charged into battle, blade raised.

Alduin saw his foe and laughed, leaving his servant, Mirmulnir, behind to fight while he went southwards. For Alduin had other business to attend to. What was one more foolish mortal perishing beneath sharpened fang and claw?

Mirmulnir fought the Dragonborn for nearly two days before he fell. All those two days, the winds howled, and the sky grew dark, voices like thunder shattering earth and stone as the two battled.

At last, Mirmulnir perished beneath the Dragonborn’s blade and the Dragonborn stood victorious.

Bolstered by the strength of the dead dragon and the power of the many other dragons that dared to raise talon and breath against the World-Eater’s Bane, after months of travel the Dragonborn tracked Alduin to the Throat-of-the-World, where the dragon Paarthurnax turned against his brother and fought at the Dragonborn’s side.

Alduin was grievously injured in the battle, though he did not fall from the sky from the Dragonborn’s Shout. Instead he fled to the deepest reaches of the mountains, to the great temple of Skuldafn, and his guardians barred the way behind him.

But the Dragonborn had won the loyalty of Alduin’s trusted lieutenant, Odahviing, having bested him in single combat. And so it was on the back of this great red-winged hunter that the Dragonborn reached the lair of World-Eater.

The Dragonborn slew the dragons who guarded the World-Eater and the mountains echoed with the death calls of the great beasts. Alduin, hearing this and seeing the Dragonborn advancing, sword dripping with blood, screamed with rage.

‘I am the firstborn of Akatosh!’ he roared, slamming his claws into the mountainside, sending rock flying, flame scorching the earth. ‘I am the World-Eater, and the bringer of eternal night! You are a mere insect! You will be devoured and Nirn will crumble into dust. None can stop me!’

The Dragonborn only laughed. ‘But Akatosh has given me the power to rival you, O World-Eater, Alduin Firstborn. Fate has brought us here and it is here that this world’s future shall be decided!’

Alduin howled and the earth shook with the force of his wrath.

For six days and six nights all of Tamriel felt the ground tremble and saw the sky darken, hearing the distant sound of dragons engaged in battle.

On the morning of the seventh day, the Dragonborn’s blade found the heart of the World-Eater at last. Alduin’s death scream came like the sound of a far-off avalanche and though the peoples of Taazokaan, of Tamriel, knew not what had transpired, the shadow that had fallen over the land since the return of the dragons had suddenly lifted.

And what of the Dragonborn? What of the Last of Dragon’s blood?

The Savior of Tamriel vanished after the battle with the World-Eater. Some say that the Dragonborn died in the battle, buried beneath snow and ice. Others say that the Dragonborn grew weary of fighting and retired from the adventurer’s life and lives peacefully in a town somewhere in Tamriel.

But who is to say what is the truth? This is the story as I know it,” Ata says, a wry smile crossing his lips as he ends the tale.

“Thank you, Ata. I love you,” Erissa chirps.

“I love you, too, _hla foyada_ ,” her Ata replies fondly.

“ _Ata_!” Erissa says, pulling her covers up so that only her eyes can be seen.

‘Yes?’ he asks, rising, reaching for the candle holder at her bedside, the burnished bronze gleaming in the flickering flame light.

“I’m not a fire-river. I’m a princess!’ Erissa declares.

“Yes,” her Ata says, laughing softly, “A princess of House Stormborn, indeed.”

She is, after all, the daughter of a ruler of a kingdom of dragons, however unknowing.

“Good night, Erissa,” Her Ata says softly, and blows out the candle, plunging the room into darkness.

“Night, Ata,” Erissa says. She listens as her door closes with a quiet clunk. She can’t hear Ata’s footsteps as he goes upstairs to his and Alma’s bedroom but that is nothing new. Her Ata _never_ makes noise when he moves unless he wants to. Erissa wants to learn how to do that someday.

She snuggles down into her covers and closing her eyes, dreams of adventuring in far off lands on the back of a red-winged dragon.


End file.
